


Misunderstanding

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [19]
Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Arguing, F/M, Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a prompt I've had on the back burner for a while.<br/>Malcolm and Sam have had a row.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @petersgal who sent me the prompt some time ago, but for one reason or another I didn't write it........I have now!! She said......"what if malcolm and sam have a misunderstanding and they end up breaking up with each other until said misunderstanding is resolved, ill leave the plot up to you, but they have to get back together thats the only thing i would like..thanks..."
> 
> It's not quite the prompt, but I thought of this and it's a continued exploration of Malcolm ,his character, and where he's coming from. Which I've been keen to do for some while and have only really touched upon previously.

MISUNDERSTANDING. 

He could hardly remember what it was all about now.  
The argument.  
He just knew he'd fucked up, big time.  
Sam was furious.  
She was never furious. Not with him, not with anyone really.  
He'd only ever seen her like this on a couple of occasions.  
Her face was a thunder cloud. A mixture of hurt, anger, pain and sadness.  
It was his fault.  
He'd done that to her.  
He was ashamed.  


"You don't just do that Malcolm......and not tell me. You just don't! It's about trust. I have to trust you. You have to be honest with me. As I am with you. Otherwise it can't work."  


Worse, she didn't rant at him.  
He'd rather she had.  
Didn't scream and cry. Just gave him that broken, betrayed expression. It killed him.  
The moment she'd found out.....that was her moment.  
She'd confronted him.  
He was cornered, so he lashed out, as he was programmed to do.  
He was standing right in front of her, his face in her face, bearing down on her, the vein in his temple throbbing.  
Yelling.  


"I didn't think you'd fucking mind. I didn't think you'd go fucking mental. It was my decision."  


"That's just it. You didn't think at all. You just became Malcolm Bloody Tucker, and bulldozed your way in, regardless of my feelings.....you're not dealing with some wet faced public school twats now, or some MP who needs his nappy changed.....or some bloody useless civil servant......this is me......I'm your wife, for Christ's sake!"  


She hardly ever swore either.  
This was really bad. She was seriously pissed.  


"Yeah.....you're my wife, and I'm your husband, the place where the fucking buck stops.....nothing new there.  
Clearing up the messes, solving the problems, that's what I do.  
You're no different to any of those cunts I used to mop up after every day of my fucking life."  


Whack!  
She slapped him right across the cheek.  
Hard.  


"Don't you EVER speak to me like that again Malcolm Tucker.  
And don't you EVER, lump me in with those.....those.......halfwits.  
If you thought that's what I was, if that's what I am to you....then why did you marry me?  
Hey? Why?"  


"Because I love you. And I was under the impression you loved me."  


"Ah.....so now we're getting to it." She nodded sagely. "'Under the impression'.....so you don't think I do then......I'm just stringing you along, is that it?"  


"I've been let down by every fucking person that I've ever been foolish enough to fall for. From my father downwards. That's because I start to trust them.....I trust them and then they shit all over me.....from a great height. Every fucking time Sam.......EVERY time."  


"And you think that's me, do you? That's what you think I'm like too? Well thank you very fucking much."  


She turned away from him then, her face creasing, his arm snapped out, grabbed her wrist, holding it tightly, fingers digging into the flesh, enough to bruise.  
She looked at his hand, then up at his seething face.  
In a very quiet measured tone. She said,  


"Let. Go. Of. Me. Malcolm. "  


He was staring straight into her face. Those steel blue eyes blazing.  
Then.....suddenly......defeat.  
He diminished.  
Saw himself.  
No.......not himself.......he saw his father, grabbing his mother, welting her with the back of his hand. Gripping her wrist, just as he was doing right now.  
He dropped Sam's arm as if she burned him.  
How many times had he witnessed it? Drunken rage.  
It was one of the main reasons he seldom drank. All his life, trying to distance himself from becoming that man.  
That excuse for a man.  
The one who beat and abused his wife. Belted his children, till they could barely stand.....to teach them respect.  
What a joke.  
They all lived in fear of him. Fear is not respect.  
Malcolm learned to despise him with every fibre of his being.  
Got away as soon as ever he could.  
Never went back, not even after the cancer took him.  
He did eventually return, years later, with his sister, after his poor mother's death, a grown man, who'd made his way in the world.  
Fuelled by anger and fear and resentment.  
A fierce ambition to succeed against the odds......  
Sorting through her house, they'd found it, coiled in a drawer, the leather strap.  
Together, they built a bonfire. Burned the fucking offending article to ashes.  
His sister Nance, sobbed, as they stood over the pyre.  
Watched their childhood shrivel away. His arm round her shoulder.

So, this was it.  
It was happening.  
Just as he always knew it would.  
Sam.  
His Sam, as he always referred to her.  
Never did know what she saw in him.  
He didn't deserve someone like her. He just didn't.  
He'd never, ever be good enough.  
Knew that now. Had pushed it to the back of his mind. Got caught up in the dream.  
Well, more fool him.  
Just like with his first wife. He fucked up royally there too. Given her all of himself, everything he was, for what it was worth, but he hadn't been enough for her either.  
To this day he wasn't really sure how many other men there'd been.  
Ripped his heart out.  
Never again. Never a-fucking-gain. He'd sworn it.  
Then Sam happened.  
Hook, line and fucking sinker.  
Young, beautiful.....oh......he'd kidded himself.......he wasn't love's young dream, he knew that, but somehow......somehow she seemed genuine.  
Well fuck her then. He'd still survive, somehow.  
He'd just have to put on his armour again, fight it all the way.  
Not go under.  
He turned away from her, reached for his jacket.  


"Where do you think you're going?"  


"Out."  


"Oh no you don't! You are not running away. You are not running out on me, Malcolm Tucker. That's not how it works. No Sir."  


"What then? What do you want me to do? Or say? Beg you? To forgive me? On my knees? I've done it before Sam. Got me nowhere. I'm sorry, okay. I fucked up. I should have spoken to you first, but I didn't. I acted like a cunt and I'm sorry. It was only a matter of time Sam. I should have known that."  


"A matter of time? What are you rabbiting on about?"  


"Till I did something monumentally fucking stupid, and you realised what a huge mistake you'd made, and wanted out. I guess I'm lucky it's lasted this long."  


"Malcolm. I swear to God. You are on a different planet. Seriously. You think I want you to leave? Just up and go? Because of a row?"  


There it was......that look again.  
Little Boy Lost.  
Bewildered. Puzzled. Confused.  


"Malcolm......we are married. I married you. I stood up in front of lots of people and said vows to you. We've had an argument......now we talk it through......we discuss it. Then we forgive each other......we find where we went wrong.....we fix it, then we move on. That's how it works."  


Malcolm, pursed his lips, biting back emotion.  


"So you don't want me to leave?"  


"Well, of course I bloody don't.  
What I want is for you to feel that you can trust me, talk to me. I want you to respect me enough to know that I can handle sharing problems with you. You don't have to carry the burden alone. That's what a marriage is. It's a partnership. An equal partnership. Troubles are shared."  


"Right."  


Was all he could manage.  


"Malcolm, you don't bale out at the first sign of trouble. You work through it. I trust you. I tell you everything. I don't hide things from you. I expect you to treat me the same way. That's what loving someone means, and I love you. "  


"You do?"  


"Of course I do. Why is it so difficult for you to believe?"  


"Trying Sam......yeah? Trying to believe."  


"You poor fucked up bastard."  


She pulled him, trembling, into her embrace.  


"Just because you've been let down, doesn't mean it's automatically going to happen every time. We're strong. You and me. It works. We work together, as a team.  
Just as we did at Number 10. I've got your back, you're my wing man. How can I make you understand that? How can I convince you?"  


No answer.  
His face buried in her neck, bending, almost sinking down.  
Shoulders heaving as it all came pouring out.  
She stroked his head. Hushed him.  


"I'm sorry Sam. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please."  


"I forgive you. Come on Malc, shhh now, let's go clean up your face."  


She lead him upstairs.  


"Such a fucking Jessie. Look at me. How can you love me? Crying like a kid with a scraped knee."  


"You see tears as weakness, Malcolm. I see them as strength. I've told you that before. Letting me see you cry, doesn't make you a Jessie. It makes you human. It shows how much you love, what it all means to you."  


Seating him down in the bathroom. Placing a cold flannel against his forehead and eyes.  
As he began to calm.  


"Malcolm, promise me......promise me you won't shut me out like that again. If there's a big decision to be made, we make it together. Okay?"  


He nodded, glancing up at her.  
So vulnerable, she was in serious danger of loving him all the more.  
He threaded his arms around her middle, face flat against her stomach.  
She stroked his hair, nails scraping his scalp, lovingly.  


"Sam?"  


"Can I take you to bed? Can I touch you? Make love to you? Worship you? It's all I want to do right now......  
.......I'm an idiot. I know I am. But I'm learning, I'm trying really hard. I know I'm fucking needy, I know it. But I can't help it. I'm so in love with you, so scared of losing you, that it hurts Sam.  
It just fucking hurts, yeah?"  


Taking his hand, he followed her into their bedroom.  


"Get it into your thick head. You're mine. I'm yours. I love you. I want you. Okay Malcolm?......  
You. No one else. Just you. Okay?"  


He nodded, his hands moving up to her face, leaning to kiss her, still a tremble in those fingers.  


"What shall I do Sam? How can I make it up to you?"  


"Right now? You can get those trousers off, and I'll really show you all is forgiven!!"


End file.
